Closed Doors, Open Heart
by Toramo
Summary: World changing events can be set in motion by even the smallest action. In a country on the brink of war, it had started with a boy named Sirius and another named Remus; it had started with a closed door, which led to an open heart. A non-magical AU set in a world similar to ours in the 1940s, right before the second World War. A Pre-slash, Friendship Fic


This is a mostly pre-slash Sirius and Remus story, so its basically a friendship fic and the rating is K but may go up in the future. Its set in an non-magical AU that is somewhat different from our own world, in about the 1940s right around WW2. The is my first chapter fan-fiction and is not pre-written so updates will be sporadic. Please review, love, hate, criticism and praise, I want it ALL, so go crazy. Enjoy, or not, the first chapter of Closed Doors, Open Heart.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

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Sirius lived alone, but he was not alone. There were the people that made the beds, cooked the food, stoked the fires in the winter and fetched the ice in the summer; they were always there silently watching and assisting but never really present. They never spoke unless spoken to, never looked him in the eye or dared touch him, and Sirius thought of them like ghosts, like the ones he had read about in books in the upstairs library. Those creatures that supposedly haunted empty old homes like the one he lives in; ghosts that silently move things across the room and rattle the windows at night along with a manner of other frightening things. It somehow made it seem less lonely and more magical to think that he was being watched over by the spirits of ancestors past instead of people his parents had hired with money. He had started to even wonder if_ he_ was the ghost, the pale boy dressed in black walking the halls silently. Invisible and intangible, his cries and screams falling on deaf ears, talking to people that would never reply.

The only thing that kept this nightmare from reality was the tutor that visited him every other day, an old man with a long white beard and tiny glasses that couldn't hide the twinkle in his eyes. He would come with pockets full of sweets and an arm load of books that were different from those housed in the library in his fathers unused study. They didn't drone on and one about politics or history, with too many long words and not enough pictures, they had adventure and mystery, about boys that could fly or breath underwater of grow so large they could brush the clouds with their fingertips. The books had colourful covers and intricate etchings, detailed pictures printed in black ink, they were his treasures all of them and he hid them under his bed in an old toy box so they maids couldn't confiscate them. Sirius would anticipate the old man's visits, waiting in the study for the sound of leather shoes on the carpeted stairs leading into the landing, for the door to open and for him to step in and bring his colours into Sirius' grey world.

They would talk and he would teach, about science, literature and maths all while Sirius sucked on lemon drops. His teacher was so much better than his old tutor, a harsh German man who spoke only about purity of blood and the importance of lineage; his lessons were long and he never brought candy or books, he also gave to much homework. So Sirius passed his days, wandering the halls, doing his homework, sleeping and eating and waiting. There seemed to be a particular large amount of waiting, waiting for his teacher to come, waiting for his patents to return, and waiting for something to happen. It was almost enough waiting to drive him mad.

He would play in the yard sometimes, throwing a ball at the brick and stone wall, catching it as it bounced back pretending it was his brother tossing it back to him, but instead it was just himself; stuck in this house while his brother went to boarding school miles outside the city. On day after about a hundred and one tosses Sirius started getting mad; frustrated he threw the ball harder than he should have. Angry at his parents for leaving him to go strengthen their _political alliances_, his brother for leaving him to live at a boarding school, for the maids and the cooks and the butler for treating him like he didn't exist, and most of all he was angry at himself for letting them ignore and forget him. He smashed the ball against the wall and instead of flying back towards him it shot straight up, eclipsing the sun for a second before falling back down, hitting the top of the wall and falling to the other side.

Sirius stood there for a second, furious at himself for losing the ball and blaming his family for it; he almost stormed back inside his pride making him want to abandon the ball. But it had been a gift from his teacher and one of his only toys so he relented; luckily there was a door in the wall, leading to the back street behind the manor. It was primarily used by the servants, and for deliveries, so Sirius hardly ever paid it a glance, but he did know that it was locked only from the outside. He had been told by one of the maids that he should never go out because it the door closed behind him it would be lock and he would be trapped outside the protective walls that surrounded the Black property, it was so rarely that they spoke to him the Sirius had remembered the conversation vividly.

He weighed his options, he could go ask one of the maids to help him, but that would most like end up in him getting in trouble, either for playing with the ball or owning it in the first place. It seemed that his mother and the mistress of the household did not want anything in the house that could damage the priceless vases or paintings that stood on every surface in the house. So Sirius decided, picking up one of the cement lawn ornaments that littered the grassy landscape, a snake coiled into a circle that reached his knees, that he would open the door and wedge the statue in it keeping it open so he could fetch his ball before returning back before anyone knew. It would be like one of the adventure in his books, and it filled the young boy with excitement.

Bending his knees he shifted the squat stone statue slowing towards the door, until it was right beside the door frame. Looking up, and wiping the sweat now pouring from his face, sticking his hair to his temples, Sirius studied the door intently for the first time. It was set back in the stone, the dark mossy rock enclosing it slightly, making it seem to almost be engulfed by the stones and brick, dark worn wood with tarnish metal fixing and a doorknob that reached his chest. It almost seemed magical, like a door way to another world or a secret garden, and for a moment Sirius hesitated, his hand already reaching forward to grasp the snake head doorknob.

He felt that if he touched it the spell would be broken, the door would disappear and leave him trapped, or that when he opened it that the darkness beyond would rush in, all the poverty and filth his first teacher said was outside. But Sirius decided it was worth the risk, what if Wendy had had never opened the window and let Peter in, what if Alice never chased the Rabbit or Jack had traded the cow for a bag of coins. What was adventure without risk? So Sirius surged forward, griping the knob had his fingers, the shock of the cold metal against his palm, and turned, wrenching the heavy door from its frame. Hurriedly he pushed against the wooden door with his back keeping it open long enough to drag the statue into place, the heavy snake wedging snugly into place, leaving a large enough space for the boy to slip through. Looking up after adjust the statue he saw the outside world for the first time in a long time.

The street was noticeably smaller and shabbier that the one leading to the front entrance to the house paved only in dirt and not cobble like any of the other roads Sirius had been in on the rare days he went out into the city. What leaded to it seemed only to be the back entrances to manors like the one Sirius was on, and small dilapidated houses and shops. There was garbage on the street corner and dust in the air but Sirius stared in rapture as if it were the halls of gold and silver right out of a fairy tale. It was so different yet that was what made it amazing, Sirius' eyes were so used to the cool splendour of his home that anything else was a shock, something strange and new and interesting.

His eyes drank in the sight of merchants selling their wares straight out of the back of their mule carts, old men and women sitting together in the shade of the shop front awnings and smoking tobacco out of long clay pipes and children that were a few years older than him chasing each other through the streets, their skin, thin cotton dresses and patched knee pants smeared with road dust but their teeth as they smiled were as white as porcelain. It was a sight, one that his starved eyes drank in thirstily, and no one seemed to notice the pale boy that had slipped out on of the doors, his dark clothes blending into the shadows.

After a moment of silent staring and longing Sirius suddenly remembered his original objective, his ball, he had to find it. A cursory glance around the street confirmed his suspicions; his ball was nowhere in sight. Venturing a step down, the toe of his dark leather shoe breaking the line of shadow from the door and into the light, he stepped forward. He winced at the temporarily blinding light; it seemed so much brighter when you were in it then looking out from the shadows. Before taking another step down, he noticed that a boy was sitting on the last step leading to this doorway, his dirty blond hair and dusty clothes making him nearly blend into the dirt of the road around him. And there clamped in his small callused hands, was Sirius's bright red ball.

Sirius froze for a second, not know how to approach the other boy, who seemed only to sit there silently, toying with the ball in his hands. After a moment though his life time of etiquette lessons, which had been ground into to him almost as early as birth, kicked in; squaring his shoulders and lengthening his spine, he strode forward confidently with his head held high. His swaggering stride one which he had practiced countless times in front of his mother, which and rapped him with a ruler every time he slouched or lowered his head. After he had come close enough to the boy that he could be easily heard, he raised his voice and said in his most arrogant tone "What are you doing with my ball?" The other boy froze for a second; his fingers stilled against the smooth rubber surface of the ball, scuffed shoes stopped swings to stir the dust, long dirty hair obscuring his face, before finally looking up.

For a moment Sirius was stunned, he had not seen many boys his age but with just a glance he could tell that this one was exceptionally good looking. Even with his dirt smeared face and limp hair his natural beauty shone out; his face was small and heart shaped and his eyes large and golden, rimed with fair downy lashes. It was such a strange colour, no one in his family had such a shade, and none of the other Pure Blood families he had visited had anything close, the Malfoys nor the Potters, the LeStranges or the Snapes. It was as if someone had found a way to bottle moon light and had poured it into the irises of this boy. For a moment Sirius was stunned by his beauty, and for a moment Sirius marvel, but then the boy face contorted into a deep scowl.

It was such a drastic change that it jarred Sirius out of his stupor, and as instinct kicked in, he glared back. The street boy took a look at Sirius's high class clothing and upper crust accent and perfectly manicured nails before snarling back, "Well I don't see your name on it." They lapsed back into a silence where the other boy simply looked away whilst Sirius glare holes into the back of his head, silently fuming. How dare he speak to him in such a manner, everyone else Sirius had encountered had only had polite words to speak, even the maids which were tasked with taking care of him still treated him with the respect and reverence reserved for the next head of the Black household. But here there was, a street boy who spoke back to him in that accented drawl, taking his property with no intention of returning it. Once again Sirius had the urge to just walk away, but once again he reined it in, the ball was more precious than his petty pride, so without another word or thought of his pants, plopped right down next to the other boy on the stone step.

The other boy looked over, shocked at his actions, but all Sirius did was stare straight ahead and cross his arms, puffing out his cheeks in defiance. After a moment the other boy went back to staring off into space. Sirius had no idea how long he had been siting there, it had felt like an eternity, the blazing hot sun heating his head and the scratchiness of the dirt on his thighs, but he knew by the path of the sun across the cloudless sky it hadn't even been a quarter of an hour. Not long enough for anyone to notice he was gone, but even with his impressive experience at waiting Sirius didn't seem to get better at it with practice. And after only fifteen minutes was seriously considering abandoning his mission and just returning home for a cup of lemonade and a plate of tarts. But all of a sudden there was a commotion beside him and he turned just in time to see a ball of crumpled up news print hit his companion on the side of his head. Raising a hand to try and block it he lost his grip on the ball, which rolled forward to the feet of a group of older children standing in front of them, the same ones Sirius had seen playing when he first exited the door. Every one of them was holding a projectile of some kind.

Sirius watched, stunned, when they suddenly let them loose on the other boy, pieces of crumpled paper, apple cores, and old tin cans pelted the other boy, who tried in vain to cover his head against their assault. Even as they hit the other boy with garbage, they tossed insults as well, "Half-Breed", "Mongrel", "Dirty Animal", and "Street Trash"; the harsh words wracking the thin boys frame, and his eyes hidden from the others by his bangs, filled with tears. But Sirius saw, he was filled was a righteous fury, he may not like the boy and he was taking his property without permission, but a hero in a story never let anyone get bullied and stand aside, and anyways his teacher had always told him to treat others with respect even of you didn't like them. He stood up and shouted in the loudest voice he could, "Stop it!" and the other kids stopped their barrage for a moment, looking up at the previously overlooked child. Sirius continued, "You can't do that, it's not nice and I won't allow it!" by now his face was red and he was huffing slightly, adrenaline rushed through him and he felt great. He tallest of the boys stepped forwards and sneered, "Well what the hell 're you gonna do 'bout it, yah little runt?" his crooked yellow teeth making him look like a mule.

His anger renewed at the insult, Sirius picked up the discarded ball, he felt a piece of garbage strike him as he leaned down but he didn't even flinch, his mother could and did hit harder than that. Before straightening, looking at the red blotchy face of the other boy, Sirius could almost convince himself that he was looking at a brick wall, and with all his might, heaved the ball right at between the two small beady eyes. It struck hard, the ball rocketing upward before landing and rolling back towards Sirius, and the other boy held a hand to his nose. Vibrant red blood seeped through his fingers, and dribbled over his lips and onto the dirt of the streets, the scarlet spots dampening the dried earth. The other children stood still for a moment, stunned in silence, the golden boy looking at Sirius with his mouth unabashedly hanging open. Before Sirius picked up the ball again, the frozen group in front of him, their trash projectiles lay forgotten at their feet before turning and shooting them a furious glare, full of menace and promised violence, his lips pulled into a toothy snarl. They fled, leaving their weapons at their feet, which once again became trash.

Sirius plopped back down after the last figure had rounded the bend at the end of the road; turning to the still shocked boy he simply said "What? Aren't you going to thank me?" the other boy just blinked before looking down at his shoes before answering in a quiet, and grudgingly polite, but still unmistakably grateful voice, "Thank you." Sirius started, he didn't think he would actually be thanked, before replying back slightly bashfully, "No problem." If his mother had been there she would have been horrified at his carless speech, or maybe at the fact he was even speaking to someone who was clearly below himself in social ranking, or most likely at the state of his pants, dusty from siting on the dirty door step.

Sirius, suddenly uncomfortable started toying with the ball that was still in his hands, he had forgotten somewhere during his excursion the goal of his whole escapade, to get back his ball, but now that he had it he found that he didn't really want to leave just yet. Looking up he caught the other boy looking longingly at the ball, his eyes glued to the smooth surface of the scarlet orb. On a whim Sirius tossed it to him, not even worrying that he'll take it and refuse to return it, the other boy started but caught the slow arching pass easily. Looking up with a confused face Sirius just smiled, "You looked like you really wanted it," the other boy just blushed and looked down and said in a small voice, "It was really pretty and I don't have many toys." Sirius perked up at this. He turned to the other boy, beaming and said, "Me either!" to which the street boy just looked even more confused at, taking another look at Sirius's high class attired and the door from which he came from he said incredulous "You don't?" Sirius just leaned back on his hands, kicking his legs. "Well, my parent don't really want balls or rackets or anything of that sort in our house, and anyways they don't really believe in the concept of 'having fun', they think I would spend my time better reading," and Sirius sneered and imitated his mother's condescending tone, "studying."

Sirius knew he was rambling but didn't stop till he heard a quiet sound and looked over only to see that the other boy was laughing. It didn't sound like any laugh Sirius had heard from another man, not his brother's and to honest his own, arrogant laugh, or his teachers loud, hearty booming laugh, or his father's complete and utterly lack of laughing, or even smiling. It sounded more like his mother's and other ladies he had met, high shrill giggles, usually hidden behind gloved hands or lace fans, but more open, real and full of joyous emotion. Sirius paused to listen for a moment and when the other boy had finished he said, "You laugh like a girl," and in an instant the smiling open face turned back into a similar scowl. Suddenly Sirius realized his mistake, backtracking as quickly as he could he said "No, I meant it in a good way! I meant to say that your laugh sounded very nice." Slowly the scowl melted off the other boys face, but a hint of suspicion still lingered in his features.

After a another moments of awkward silence Sirius held up his open palms in mock surrender, "Geez, don't need to get so riled up, I meant no offense," the other boy seemed to soften up at this, the tenseness of his shoulders loosening somewhat, before turning to the dark haired boy, "Well the people who come out of doors like that aren't usually very nice to people like me." "People like you?" Sirius asked confusedly, was it the same reason that the other children had been throwing things at the by earlier. Hesitating for a moment, the street boy put the ball down between his legs, holing it there while his hands reached around his neck. After a breathless moment of waiting and rummaging the boy pulled out a long, thin gold chain, and strung on it was a single charm, a golden crescent moon.

"Oh," was all Sirius was able to say. He had heard of those kinds of humans from both his teachers, his previous teacher would often rant about them, how they were inferior humans, less than animals and a parasite the drained the upper classes. But as Sirius was finding out, the teachings of his previous teacher was not the truth, his current teacher had also taught Sirius about them. How they were misunderstood and mistreated, how they felt pain and love and sadness and happiness like every other person. His teacher had taught him about how all people were equal and had the equal right to live.

By the time his flash back had ended he knew there had already been a lengthy silence, the other boy was looking down again, fidgeting with the golden charm, fingers trembling and twitching with nervousness and fear of rejection that was probably all too familiar. Sirius suddenly felt mad, the boy had shrunk so small before him, trembling and shaking with fear, Sirius wished that the snarky child he had seen before was back, or the beautiful smiling laughing one. With his mind made up Sirius spoke, "well, my teacher taught me that everyone is equal, so don't be expecting any special treatment from me, you hear." The boy looked up, stunned again before he smiled again, and Sirius was dazzled.

Afterwards they sat there for a long time, such talking and laughing, passing the ball back and forth along with stories and jokes. Sirius found out that the other boys name was Remus and that he was an only child. He lived with his parents above a bakery the street over, his father was a worker in the bakery and his mother was a laundress and washed clothes for a living. He couldn't afford to go to school and neither of this parents had enough time to watch over him so he usually just walked around, unable to make friends as no one wanted to talk to him. Sirius told Remus about his large but empty house, how his brother had chosen to go to boarding school instead of staying with him, and how his parents were traveling Europe and had not been home for months. He talked about the endless days of waiting and the crushing boredom and how he felt like a Spector in his own house.

They talked and talked till the sun sank lowly behind the buildings across the street. Sirius wanted to stay longer but he knew that if the maids had found him out here they would have locked the doors and forbade him to see his new friend again. So with a heavy heart Sirius said goodbye to Remus, leaving the red rubber ball in his care, promising him to see him the day after tomorrow, because he had lessons tomorrow, and to bring lots of books so they could read together. Waving goodbye from between the crack in the open door, watching it close slow after he had moved the snake statue, the sun setting, it was the first time Sirius was not glad the day was over, and instead sad that it had ended.

After he had went back inside, one of the maids had made a fuss over his pants, which Sirius had said he had dirtied running and falling in the yard. But other than that they had made no indication of knowing where he had been for the whole day. One thing good about living in a large house by yourself is that no one really worried what you were up to, they were too preoccupied with straightening the portraits, dusting the furniture and polishing the silver ware.

That night after Sirius had finally got to bed after taking a bath to wash all the road dust off his skin and out of his hair, he settles comfortable into his bed. His eyes becoming heavy after reading only a few pages of Peter Pan, he decided to sleep. Blowing out his bedside lamp he felt more tired and fulfilled than he had in a while, and as he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't wait to tell his teacher about his new friend and for the day after tomorrow, so he could see his new friend soon. As the consciousness faded from Sirius's mind, he still had images of that sundrenched afternoon, with a golden boy with a brilliant laugh, and a smile graced his sleepy lips, until the dawn of a brand new day.


End file.
